


Hierarchy-blue

by RedRavens



Series: Mass Effect Prompts [6]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Injury Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 17:34:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13908882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRavens/pseuds/RedRavens
Summary: Prompt: “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”Shepard's injured in the field and is evacuated by a Turian frigate.





	Hierarchy-blue

**Author's Note:**

> timeline for this is anywhere between Priority Tuchanka and before the final mission for the Leviathan DLC, at your convenience :)

She wakes up with a gasp, the taste of ashes and clogging smoke still on her tongue. Her vision is blurry but she can make out a light source and the white and blue of what she hopes is a hospital. She can barely make out the sounds around her though, her heart thudding in her ears, the last thing she remembers-

There's something cold against her lips - ice chips her brain provides — and she wants to tip the cup until she's drinking properly, her throat is sore and dry and she needs _water_.

“Easy,” a dual voice whispers besides her and for a paralysing moment she can't say who it is, and she wants to turn and see and- “Shepard!” the voice snaps, and she never really liked when Garrus was cross with her. “Easy, it's me, we’re on a Turian frigate.”

What the fuck were they doing on a _Turian_ frigate? Had the Normandy been attacked? She couldn't remember much, just a Banshee grabbing her and-

“ _Easy_ ,” Garrus says again, his hand easily slipping into hers. Her eyes are starting to clear up and she can see his face near her, his mandibles twitching and she can’t say if it’s relief or concern in his eyes, maybe both. She squeezes his hand as hard as she’s able, and realizes with a start that it’s him pressing the ice chips slowly into her mouth, she tries to squeeze his hand again, falling short in the attempt.

“Thank-”

“Spirits, don’t try to talk, that damned Banshee was crushing your throat, let the doctor see you first,” he sighs, brushing his stiff lips against her forehead and she really can’t help the mild pleased hum - followed by a wince - that escapes her, she loves being the centre of his attention.

A Turian that she has never seen before comes into her line of sight, his dark grey plates and red markings - more mahogany than just plain red really - a nice contrast, reminding her of Adrien of all people. He looks at her as if she’s some sort of miracle, she doesn’t feel much like one though. “Captain Shepard,” his voice is deep and soothing, almost like Victus’; she wonders for a moment if they're related. “Praetor Vakarian called me when you started to wake up, I was expecting your recovery to take longer all things considered, even after your doctor Chakwas warned me about your enhancements.” The doctor prods her joints as he speaks, lighting up one of those pens to shine in her eyes, her vision is still a tad blurry but she responds to his requests, glancing sideways and up and grunting when he gently taps the area above her knee. “Just don’t try to speak yet, the Banshee that got close to you did a number on your throat.”

Garrus makes a noise at that, and the doctor looks at him in amusement, “she’ll be fine, if she keeps from talking she should be ready for command by the end of the week Praetor.”

“That’s not- I’m-”

“It’s not my place to question, sir.” The doctor half-bows in deference, and Shepard has to bite her lip to keep from laughing at Garrus’ face, she knew, logically, that he had risen up the Hierarchy ranks and he was closer to the Primarch rank than he would have liked but there was a difference between _knowing_ and witnessing said rank in place. “The captain asked me to tell you we’ll be reaching the rendezvous point in three hours, we’ve tried reaching Normandy but no one’s responding on open channels.”

“Thats- that’s fine doctor,” Garrus says, and she watches as he downs the expected mask of leader and the mantle of responsibility falls on him, “I’ll speak with the Comm specialists later about reaching Normandy, thank you.”

The doctor leaves after checking her one last time, and this time Jane can’t help but laugh at Garrus’ face; it’s good to see him get proper recognition for a change. She opens the messaging app on her ‘tool, typing quickly ‘Praetor? Sir? I think I missed more than the last six hours.’

“Yeah, more like a full day, spirits Shepard,” he leans over her again, brushing his lips against her hair and inhaling her scent, he did that on occasion, notably when he was worried, “do you remember anything?”

‘Yeah, pretty much everything. We got a distress signal from an uncharted world, recruits on a field trip that tripped the Reaper alarms from the nearby system, we answered and were almost out of range when we were attacked again, I told Normandy to go when a Sovereign-class ship arrived. I got distracted and that thing grabbed my throat, I guess I blacked out?’ she looks up at him, waiting for him to fill the gaps.

“I managed to get a shot while it attempted a mind-meld with you,” he growls, a hate-filled sound low on his throat as he recalls the scene. She’ll ask him later but she’s knows what happens to Banshee victims, the wide-eyed terror as the life drains from them before those spidery fingers plunge into their chest. “For a moment I thought you were okay, you even managed to thank me and make sure one of the soldiers was okay.”

‘Then I fainted?’

“Yeah..." he laughs, brushing another kiss on her forehead, "straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” He smirks at her, a tilt of his head, a little twitch of his mandibles and yeah, she's completely in love with this idiot. She should probably tell him more often. 

'You're an ass Vakarian.’ She types quickly before shaking her head.

'Don't think you're getting out of an explanation though: praetor?’

“Wish you’d drop it,” he mutters next to her, his demeanour changing from the half a second of levity to the weight of over twelve billions souls on his shoulders. “I got the rank of Praetor when the Reapers appeared on our long-range scanners,” he sighs and she's only sorry she asked because he sounds so fucking _tired_. “The moment Fedorian and the rest of the Hierarchy saw I was right they bumped my rank, and the more politicians die- well you get the picture, I'm a lot closer to the Primarch chair than I even thought I’d be and that's nearly as scary as facing Sovereign alone.”

'I can relate,’ she types, the voiceover unemotional and seemingly loud in the sudden quiet between them. 'Is everyone aboard Edæna okay?’

“Yeah, yeah they are, there were a few casualties before we got there, but the surviving recruits are mostly okay,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose - something she's sure he picked from her - he sounds so worn out.

‘I love you, you know?’ she types, the mechanical voice lacking in sentiment so she grabs his hand and squeezes it, three times. The gentle squeezes she feels back warms her more than she would’ve ever imagined.

He squeezes her hand again, three times, in the same cadence as his words, and she is helpless to stop the smile spreading across her face. She wishes she could whisper how much she loves him, but her throat is sore and it  _hurts_ ; this will be one time where she won’t contradict the doctor’s orders.

‘Where’s Ash?’ she asks, once she manages to wet her lips, no way she’s gonna swallow anything anytime soon.

“In the mess with the ground team, they’re probably still recounting how the great Commander Shepard fainted straight into Praetor Vakarian’s arms, finally revealing who the real hero in this story is.” He smiles at her again, and she’s too stunned by the sheer amount of  _bullshit_  to respond.

‘You’re an asshole Vakarian.’

"An asshole you just happen to love," he flickers his mandible again in a smile, and she can feel the blood on her cheeks and part of her neck and it's ridiculous how much she loves him. He cradles her warm cheek with his whole hand, his thumb caressing him and she can feel herself melt a little more at how gentle he is, how gentle he can be.

She looks up at him in silent question, and it's a testament to their bond that she doesn't actually need to speak for him to understand her.

"Try not to scare me like that again, okay?" he murmurs, sitting by her side, and she sighs, "I know, no promises, but at least try... imagine how pissed you'll be if I'm ever made Primarch of a Turian colony or Palaven itself and you're not there to make fun of me."

She laughs, leaning on his shoulder, noticing just then he's in civvies, she gives a brief nod, it's not actually a promise, but yeah, she'll try.


End file.
